“I’ll be handling the gems with a picker tool so I don’t get glue all over my hands. I can tell that the glue is going to get everywhere if I don’t use something very fine to administer it. So what am I using, you might ask?”
I fan a fistful of syringes at my audience.
“These are glue syringes. They’re perfect for getting glue into very small spaces without making a mess.”
I adjust the camera to look down at my hands, and I begin. As I work, I sometimes forget to talk. I’m most chatty when I’m nervous, but I calm down when I work and just go dead quiet with focus. It’s like I’ve only got enough electricity to run my hands or my mouth. Never both. But I have to make the effort to narrate or else it’ll be quite a boring show.
“Not all rhinestones are created equal. Did you know that? There are tons to pick from, and for almost all your cosplay needs, you’re going to want ones that are flat-back, which means the backs of them are flat, which is perhaps obvious… I don’t know, maybe it’s not obvious, but whatever. They have flat—Oh, shit.”
I’ve pricked myself with this stupid glue syringe, and a stray stone has drifted out of its spot. I shut up and correct it. Then I show the camera my work so far, hiding my bloodied finger.
“See how pretty that row is?”
I do another row in silence.
“This is a gorgeous color,” I say. “What would you guys call this color?”
I check the chat. Someone has responded with: blue lol?
“Well, yes. They’re…blue. But can anyone guess the specific color?”
I make myself do another row before checking again. When I look up, I see that someone by the name of Striker9 has said: Sea Foam Dream #6.
“Well, someone’s been on the Craft Club site!” I grin. “Yeah, the exact color of these is called Sea Foam Dream, and number six is the size. It’s super hard to find enough of them, since they’re a specific size and color.”
Truth is, I’ve gone to Craft Club twice in the last week to buy every bag they had.
“And you’d think one pack would be enough, but trust me, once you get going, you can burn through five or six of them in just one build. I’ve only done half of this fin, and I can already tell I’ll need to pick up a few more packs. But thanks to my generous benefactor, I’ve got enough to get a ton done tonight.”
As I bedazzle, I manage to keep talking. I try to keep it funny. Upbeat. A facade, because behind my act, there’s my typical uncertainty.
I wonder if what I’m creating will be enough to make me into what I want to be. I wonder if my mother is right, if I’d be better off putting my skills to use in the back rooms of fashion houses, handing off garments to assistants who smell like cappuccino and have massive iPhones. Working in fashion is glamorous if you have Evie’s high-society sensibilities, but for me it would be failure.
That fate feels far away from here and now, though, as I bedazzle a costume using gems donated by the internet. I’ve earned this, I tell myself. I am worth my best effort and a bag full of plastic gems at least.
“I’m out of gems! But I got both the arm fins done and half of the dorsal.”
I get ready to sign off. Usually I’d take a few questions, but it’s late, and my eyes are tired from staring into the glinting depths of five hundred little sea foam dreams.
“Thanks to everyone for tuning in! If you’re curious about previous steps in Plasma Siren, check out my other videos below! If you enjoyed this and want to see more, subscribe! And lastly, if you’d like to support me, a link to my wish list is posted below. You can either buy me some supplies or just throw down cash. Whatever works for you. Every patron’s money goes toward helping me make new cool stuff and record videos for you guys.”
A bubble pops up in the chat.
Striker9 is typing.
…
“And for those of you who tuned in at the end, my name is Raffy, and I’m getting this cosplay of Plasma Siren ready for—”
The bubble vanishes. Striker9 has stopped typing.
“Ready for—”
It shows up again.
Striker9 is typing.
…
It vanishes again, then shows up again. What are they trying to say that’s so hard? I’ve zoned out wondering about this, so I zone back in.
“I’m getting this costume ready for this year’s Controverse, held right here in Boston at the Boston Convention Center in the Seaport. For those wondering, no, I won’t be competing, but I will be on the con floor both Saturday and Sunday, so come say hi! And—”
Striker9 is typing.
…
“—and don’t be afraid to reach out with questions! Till next time, happy crafting!”
I power down the stream, leaving Striker9 to hammer out whatever novel they’ve been working on in the chat. It’s only then that I realize they’re the same person who knew the exact name of the stones I’ve been using for the last hour.
“Striker9, then?” I murmur, looking at myself in the dark mirror of the windows. “My bejeweled benefactor. Thank you.”
Three
Now
Luca is here.
We’ve been broken up for like five months, since Blitz Con in Providence in May. Long enough that the devastation isn’t constant. Now it just comes at me sideways sometimes, knocking me down into my thoughts. I knew he’d be here, and I told myself I wouldn’t freak out, but when I’m down, I’m down. I can’t stop thinking about him. Even in this moment, when I should be at my best, I feel my smallest. I am obsessing over how he took my idea that I wanted to do with him and executed it with Inaya instead. My former friend.
My replacement.
The betrayal is made worse by the fact that they did a good job. A really, really good job.
Fuck.
“Raffy, there are kids here.”
Sometimes I don’t realize that I am swearing out loud.
“My nose,” I say.
“Fuck your nose?”
“No. Stop. My nose is coming unglued. There’s spirit gum in the bag. Can you reapply?”
May hastily unscrews the small amber bottle and brushes the adhesive onto the portion of my facial prosthetic that’s peeling off. It’s entirely due to the grimace I let contort my mouth just now. She holds it in place for a few minutes, and we’re forced into silence, which helps me clear my head.
“Did you know what they were wearing?” I finally say.